


Learning to Seek Euphoria

by Theidiotluna



Category: Phan
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:39:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 19,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theidiotluna/pseuds/Theidiotluna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dan is a musician who is really depressed, his music isn’t selling because it’s so depressing, and his labels threatening to drop him. So his manager sends him on a self exploration trip with Phil, a cheerful traveller and poet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

'Broken glasses and torn up sheets, Trying not to cry, trying not to breath, Sun light streaming in telling me to fight,   
But I’ve lost all belief in that light,   
Those red green eyes ingrained on my brain,   
So I’ll lose it all just to ease the pain, The radio plays,  
I scream at it to stop   
Because pain and regret are all that I’ve got.    
And if you look for me, you’ll have to search the depths of hell,   
and then a little further for good measure as well,   
but last I checked you were up in the clouds,  
 if that place even exists now,  
 Can’t remember my name,  
I only know your sweet eyes,   
No one cries for me now, oceans of grief destroy the skies,…  …  
My happy little pill,  
take me away,   
Dry my eyes,  
bring colour to my skies,   
My sweet little-'  
‘ What? Oh sh*t.   
I snap open my eyes, but the noise continues:   
“Take my hunger,  
light within   
Numb-”  
 I stagger to my feet and launch myself at my phone, knocking over the empty Jack Daniels as I go. I grab my phone and stare at the screen, which smugly tells me “Richard” is calling.  
Richard. My manager. Who I haven’t spoken to in 2 weeks. Oh shi-   
“Oh, glazed eyes,  
empty hearts   
Buying hap-“   
“…hello?” I whisper into the phone, wincing in preparation. From my position on the floor, I think about moving so my face isn’t literally in the carpet, but that proves to be too much effort, so I just let it muffle my voice so I sound like I’m in 1960s Australia  
. “Studio. 10 minutes” and then the line goes dead. Charming. Well, I can either lie here and let the carpet suffocate me, or get up and let Richard rip me to shreds. Tough choice.  
I go with the latter.  I pick myself up from the floor, pleased to see that my hair is still straight after my little afternoon nap. I debate changing out of my scruffy ‘the ring’ t-shirt, but Richard genuinely will kill me if I’m late. Not that I’d care that much.  I grab the piece of paper that I was scribbling on last night… er this morning… well earlier- and sprint (stagger quickly) out the door. As I try to guess which of the many locks on my door actually exists, I’m attacked by a moth. It just dives for my shoulder, giving me such a shock I sort of spin and fall onto the ground. Why do I always seem to end up on the floor?   
I go to get up when I see my neighbours cat looking down on me.  “What you looking at you little shi-” I go to say, but it just places it paw on the moth. Oh great, now even cats are showing me up.  
 I get up and get in my car. I drive at breakneck speed and arrive at the studio 11 minutes later.  I take a deep breath and walk into studio 9.    
“You’re late” Richard remarks without turning round.    
“Give me a break, Rich” I sigh sinking into the nearest chair. My head’s pounding and throbbing, but at least it’s dimly lit in here “I’ve got that song you wanted me to write”   
He swivels round and grabs the piece of paper and skims through it “Oceans of grief?” He frowns.  
 I just shrug “they say they write about what you know.” I say, concentrating on not hydropumping all over his shoes.  
 “Really, Dan? Oceans of grief? Well it does go nicely with “no one”, ” alone in the darkness” and “emptiness”” he sighs, scrunched up the paper and chucked into the bin.    
“So what should I write then? Lies? Other artists write sad songs” I huff sulkily.  
 Rich turns to me “Give me a REALLY successful song that’s depressing” I rack my brains and remember the song that was playing on radio one as I drove here “someone like you: sad and successful”   
“Wrong answer, she shows acceptance” I go to say another, but Richard hasn’t finished yet “look Dan, your entire album is just filled with depressing songs. Sad songs are fine, but they find acceptance, or a way to move on. Even a few depressing songs are fine, but when every single one is the same… The label is getting bored of this Dan, it’s been 18 months and we’ve got nothing good enough to give them…” “What?” I say not believing my ears. Richard takes a sharp intake of breath “They’re threatening to drop you” he says simply.  
I gasp, as I literally see all my dreams collapsing in front of me.  
Richard notices this and places his hands on my shoulders “Look kid, I know what you’ve been through lately but-"  
I stand up and push off his hands off of me. “You know nothing about what I went through. Nothing.” I glare at him and start to run out of the room, but he grabs my wrist before I can and swings me round to face him.  “Would you just listen to me for one second?” He lets go of my wrist, but I stay where I am, slouching against the desk. “they are threatening to drop you, so they haven’t yet. This is my plan” he takes a deep breathe “you say you can’t write what you don’t feel, and I understand that. So what we have to do is not change what you say, but what you feel”  
 I shake my head “your wasting your time. Nothing can change what’s going on in my head right now. Get it, nothing!”  
But Rich keeps going.  “Dan, you’ve been through sh*t, you’re borderline depressed. How can you make music that people will want to listen to if you’re like this? I have a mate,” I mock surprise until he glares at me “he says his son , Phil, is the happiest person he knows. He travels all over the world, exploring and being one with nature-“   
“He sounds like a squirrel” again I chuckle darkly until Rich gives me the death stare.  
 “He writes poetry about happiness and beauty, and he’s becoming really successfull”  
 “Well, thanks for the story, mate. Still don’t get how this applies to me”  “He’s looking for someone to travel with him on his next trip”   
Oh god, no.  
 “And so I think you should go with him”   
After regaining the ability to speak, I articulate my opinion in the most courteous and calm way I know: “There’s no f*cking way I’m running around some stupid forest with a hippie” I say, clasping the door handle “I think I’ll take the other option and just let the label drop me” I mutter half way out the door.  
 “Dan, you’ve forgotten something” I swivel round, what is he talking about?  
 He walks over and lays a hand on my shoulder “I’ve invested too much in you emotionally and economically to let you get dropped. You don’t have a choice” he grins, claps me on the back and walks out the door “see you at Heathrow on Thursday!” He calls smuggly.  
 I shut the door and lean against it.  Well I’m f*cked.  
A/N2: next chapter coming soon, this time containig phil :)


	2. Chapter 2

Well f*ck me.   
Let’s recap on my brilliant life:  
a) My label is threatening to drop me in the scrap heap   
b) In an effort to save his money (and his own ass) my manager is sending me on a “self-exploration” trip with a glorified hippie  
c) It’s currently 3am and I’m stood in a freezing airport with a colossal hangover  
d) I’m also a bit tipsy  
Richard gives me a “sly” side glance for the 50th time this minute. What do you think I’m going to do? I want to say. Run? Chance would be a fine thing. I can make it about 3 meters sober. Not that I would’ve been able to try that recently. But before I can verbally attack Rich, his phone pings. He grabs it and hastily pulls it out of his pocket, almost dropping it in the process. Seriously, what can be that important to him that he can’t get his phone out like a normal, functional human being?  
“Boyfriend?” I ask, smirking at the straightest man on earth. Seriously a level couldn’t have made him straighter than God did. Or evolution I guess.  
“No, it’s Phil” He says back at me, not taking his eyes from the screen as he reads the message.  
“Exactly”  
Rich just shakes his head at me “Phil says he’s just got through security; he’ll be with us in a second” I mutter ‘give me strength’ under my breath, but Rich picks up on it “give over, you’ll probably have to watch yourself around him; I hear he’s a real looker” he winks in a vain attempt to make me vaguely interested. It doesn’t work.  
“Rich, if you think I’m interested in spiritual posh boys, with dreadlocks who think they can ‘save the world’ with a few sappy poems, I’m going to start to questioning whether we’ve ever met before.”  
Rich opens his mouth to reply-  
“Richard?” We both turn around and see a tall, black fringed guy, wearing skinny jeans and a checked shirt. He looks nice enough, with a kind smile and shining blue eyes. Rich and I both look around him to find the posh hippie we’re both expecting.  
Again the guy speaks “Er, hello? Richard?”   
Rich looks at Phil briefly, and then starts when he realises who he is. “PHIL!” Rich exclaims, as he runs to hug him like a long-lost relative. I think about stopping him, but in the hopes that this ‘Phil’ will turn and run for his life (and also because of my inability to put one foot in front of the other in quick succession), I don’t. Unfortunately, despite looking a bit startled, Phil taps Rich on the back and his smile returns.  
“And you must be Dan?” he says, stepping towards me offering me his hand.  
I leave his hand where it is “yep” I say.   
Phil looks at me sheepishly “nice to finally-”  
God, my head kills. I grab my little hip flask from my pocket, unscrew it and take a sip.  
Phil’s mouth drops wide open. Great. However, my happiness is short-lived as Rich grabs my drink out of my hand and smacks me over the head.  
“You idiot!” he yells “you can’t be drunk on a plane! You can’t take outside alcohol on to one either!” He shakes his head in utter disbelief “How did you even get it through security?”  
“I have my ways” I reply with a brief wink to the dumbstruck Phil.  
My exasperated manager sighs “Let’s get you on this plane while you still have legs to walk on”  
“Right behind you” I mutter, following him through the terminal. I turn round to see Phil still stationary “Coming?”  
Phil just stands where he is, his hand still out “-meet you”

“Good morning, may I see you ticket please?” I look up to see a pretty redhead flight attendant flashing her bright, white teeth at me. I just shove the ticket and my passport at her. “Ok, you’re row 7D”  
I follow Phil down the passage between the rows of seats. God, I haven’t been on one of these since God knows when. I pass some couples, some looking all loved up and excited, others looking like they could run the other over with the snack trolley. I swear to God, if someone’s mistakes me and Phil as a couple, I am getting of this stupid plane as fast as I can.  
“Here we are, do you want to take the window seat?” Phil asks me enthusiastically.  
“I’ll pass” I comment, reaching into my backpack for my eye mask. Phil’s smile dims a little as he takes his seat and I slide in after. But he doesn’t stop there; oh no.  
“So Dan, do you want to know where we’re going?” He grins sheepishly at me. I just put on my eye mask and lean back.  
“As much as a fly wants to meet a spider”  
“Well, there are plenty of those in Saint Helena. Many different species of all sizes-“  
“I have arachnophobia” I put simply. Yeah let him feel uncomfortable.  
“Oh.”  
Several awkward moments pass, and we’re soon on the runway. I put on my headphones and blare some Fallout Boy. This and the eye mask should blare out the sensation. I’m just getting relaxed and calm when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I pause my music and remove my eye mask to see a hot blond airhost.  
“Excuse me sir, I’m very sorry to inform you of this, but we do not permit usage of electronic items during take-off. Please remove you earphones and turn of your device” He smiles at my dumbstruck face as he whisks off down the aisle.   
And then the plane is moving. I can feel myself shaking as I switch off my phone. What am I going to do? I can’t handle take-off, it’s always so scary and you move so quickly and then you’re in the air and…  
I feel a cool hand in my shaking one. I look to my side to see Phil is holding my hand. He won’t make eye contact, but he looks at my hand.  
“I’m here Dan, Just breathe. Focus on it, focus on breathing, nice and slowly.” And somehow in this weird, messed-up situation: it’s enough. I close my eyes, and in my blind panic, squeeze Phil’s hand tighter as we speed down the runway.   
Front wheels in the air, breathe in, back wheels in the air, squeeze his hand…. And we’re in the air. I stay how I am until the plane is in the sky and level.   
I look down at my hand in Phil’s. Did I just sit here for 10 minutes, clasping the hand of some sappy poet, who I only met one hour ago? I pull my hand out of his grasp. Well, there’s only one thing to do. I pop my head round the aisle and catch the eye of an air hostess.  
“Excuse me, can I get a whiskey?”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: swearing, mentions of alcohol, nightmares

In times of writers block, or public scandal, many song writers venture abroad to relax and be inspired. They might be captivated by the ruins of Rome, or the White sands of the Caribbean. Beautiful, enlightening and luxurious settings.   
On the other hand, here I am stood in what must be the world's smallest airport after the transfer flight from hell, staring at the tropical storm outside, trying to avert my mind from the fact that I may or may not, have woken up after my recurring nightmare to find my head on the shoulder of Phil. Or Phil the philosopher, as I've come to call him.   
~*~  
There she was. Her pretty brown hair fell in front of her face as she knelt in front of a large piece of crisp white paper. Her fine liner gliding along the page in flicks and sweeping whirls. Her little pink tongue stuck out of the corner of her mouth in determination. From my angle I could see those natural golden highlights shine, and the way her white skirt splayed all around, like a ballerina's tutu. I could almost picture dainty slippers on her freckled bare feet, ribbons lacing themselves around her ankles. Suddenly, she let out a sob as she stared at her artwork before her. I was with her in a second holding her, kissing her forehead, her hair, asking her what was wrong? How could I help? What could I do to take her pain away? But she just rocked backwards and forwards crying, until she pointed to the paper in front of her. On it, I saw a sun, shining brightly through the charcoal, struggling to find its way out from behind a massive black cloud which would not relent. Suddenly the image moved, and I watched the cloud swallow the sun until only the black storm cloud could be seen.   
And then I was holding air to my chest, because she had vanished. 

I woke up panting, my eye mask still on, to find my flight pillow had taken a most peculiar shape: it was a strange, not uncomfortable shape, but what could it...  
And then the penny dropped. I snatched my eye mask away from my eyes, and looked up to see a fringe of black hair that I didn't own. It was then that I saw an air hostess grinning at us. Now, I've never been a very spiritual person, but I was calling on every god that I knew, and a few Game of Thrones ones for good measure, that she would just walk down the aisle and mind her own business. But no.  
"You and your boyfriend are so cute" she cooed  
"He's not my boyfriend." I state, unable to move my head from the position it was in on Phil's shoulder.   
"Oh, husbands. On your honeymoon then?"  
"No, we're n-" but it was too late, someone had summoned her and she left before I could explain. Oh joy.   
Holding Phil's forehead, I slotted my head out from underneath his, and placed my travel pillow (which was for some reason on the floor) in my place. Phil appeared none the wiser. Thank God.   
~*~  
So far Phil has showed no difference in his attitude, so he must be a heavy sleeper. I feel a tap on my shoulder. Speaking of the devil.   
"The car is going to be here any second" Phil gives me a sheepish smile "Ready to explore Saint Helena?"   
Suddenly, a huge bolt of lightning slashes across the dark sky, and a huge gust of wind crashed into the surrounding trees, making them howl. I turn to Phil, one eyebrow raised. "Yeah, good luck with that" I say sarcastically, before turning and walking to the main door. I look out at the huge rain drops splattering down on the abandoned road, and wonder what the hell I'm doing here. And then I remember: ah yes Dan, you're exploring a South Atlantic island which is currently being wrecked by its annual storm, with a dude you've only just met because your manager said so. Oh joy. 

-*-

"So this is the camp" Phil says as he strides into a clearing in the middle of the rainforest. Now call me ignorant about this whole travelling thing, but I imagined it would be a bit of staying in hotels, driving into some sites, then driving back. However, I realised I'd got the wrong idea when we were literally kicked out of the car in the middle of nowhere. The rain still hasn't stopped, and as it pelts down on my thin jacket, I began to enjoy thinking of all the various different ways I can murder Rich when I get back.   
Phil drops his compact rucksack onto the ground, closing his eyes and takes a deep inhale through his nose, a smile spreading across his face. Completely "at one with nature". I dump my heavy backpack at his feet, snapping him out of his little bubble. "Okay, where the f*ck are we?" I snap. I cross my aching arms over my chest, awaiting his answer.   
He looks at me like I've just asked him which direction gravity works in.   
"At the camp" he says gesturing to the deserted, water logged, clearing we stand in.   
"Yes Phil, but we're in the middle of a rainforest" I say throwing out my arms, gesturing to our surroundings.   
Phil just gives a confused look.   
So I just throw my arms out again. He doesn't seem to get it.   
"I did not sign up for this" I sigh. Well I was sort of forced, but for the sake of the phrase I'll gloss over that.   
Phil looks slightly dejected, and I almost feel guilty. He sighs softly and crosses his arms, not making eye contact. "Well, no going back now"  
I let out a laugh "What, are you going to tell me: that there's only one flight every week?" I ask sarcastically.   
Then Phil walks towards me, his intense blue eyes reeling my own ones into his gaze. And then he laughs, a happy, quiet laugh that sounds like birdsong and bubbles in his chest. His eyes shine brightly.   
"Of course not, Dan" he smiles as he stops, his face a handful of inches away from my own. "There's one every two weeks"  
He moves past me, clapping me on the back and chuckling to himself, as I stand there, stunned.   
Rich told me that when I was on this trip I would ask my self all the big questions in life. Well I can imagine there'll only be one I think about: who do I want to kill first, Rich or Phil?


	4. Chapter 4

Well this is great. I am currently sat in the smallest tent in existence, waiting for a complete stranger to join me. Ok, that sounded a lot worse than I intended. After Phil had set up the tent, and I had reduced my supply of whiskey, Phil had gone off into the rainforest somewhere leaving me to get into the tent. If he gets attacked by a killer monkey, I am not going to try and save him. He is on his own. I shuffle into a jumper and tracksuit bottoms so that I don’t have to sleep in my thin, uncomfortable skinny jeans and huddle into my sleeping bag. You’d imagine it would be hot on a tropical island, but nooo it’s colder than an Eskimo’s fridge in here. I hear a zipping sound, and guessing that it’s Phil coming into the tent (because who else would be out of their minds enough to come here?), I don’t turn around. I hear him shuffle into his clothes, perfectly fine with facing the other way. Ha Rich, I told you I was not going to be attracted to him.   
“Night Dan” I hear Phil whisper, although he could yell it and no one would care, mainly because there’s no one around to care.  
“Mph” I reply. Well it’s not exactly English, but it’s done the trick. Despite the cold I can actually feel myself drifting off. Maybe I can get through these few weeks…  
-*-  
CRACK! I hear a loud noise from just outside the tent. I see Phil sit up, trying to look composed. Yeah right, he looks like a rabbit in the headlights. He laughs nervously “Probable a little animal, it’s probably scared itself off by the noise”. He takes a deep breath and begins to lie down again.  
CRACK! Phil and I simultaneously spring together, arms around the others waist. At any other point I would have shuddered and pushed Phil away, but I’m petrified as the sound gets closer. “Yeah Phil, because that sounds like a freaking bunny rabbit doesn’t it?” I whisper, half boiling over with anger, half frozen with fear.   
He stares at me, equally freaked out “What do we do?”  
You what? I think. “HOW THE F*CK AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW?!” I whisper as loud as I can. Is this some kind of joke? Has Rich set me up with a dude who actually knows nothing about wildlife for a freaking camping trip in the wilderness?  
Phil looks down ashamed “Well, I’ve never had to deal with something like this before”  
“I thought you’d done this before! I thought this what you did with your life! Who normally makes the beasts go away, THE FREAKING RAINFOREST FARIES?!”  
“No, my ex-”  
CRACK! Phil hides his face in the crook of my neck. I shove Phil towards the entrance of the tent “Whatever, you brought us here, you go look!”  
Hands shaking, Phil holds the zip at the front of the tent, and slowly drags it down, gulping as he goes. I close my eyes and hide under my cover, preparing to hear screams- when Phil laughs. I pop my head out from under my cover. Has he lost it? I think to myself, Is he so scared that he finds it funny?  
“Hey Dan, come look at your ‘Terrifying Rainforest Beast’” He chuckles. I stick my head out of the tent to see a small squirrel monkey sat on the pile of firewood next to our tent.   
I look back at Phil, who’s trying to act superior and brave, although he won’t meet my gaze. Wasn’t he just clinging onto me in terror? Didn’t he just hide his face in my jumper? I look at him in disbelief.  
“F*ck you, Phil” I say at him, before turning over in my sleeping bag to face away from Phil again. Wow, this is all really working out splendidly.  
-*-  
Well after the night from hell, featuring every noise possible from the surroundings, I'm sat outside the tent, cradling my forehead. See, the problem with the Rainforest is that it doesn't shut up. Birds, and then insects, and then squirrel monkeys apparently, then the wind and the rain, the insects again. I thought living by a main road was bad enough. Where is Phil when you actually need him? I need his idiocy to distract me from my pounding headache.   
I turn around, groaning at the pain in my neck, when I see Phil. A bit more than I want to see of him, actually. He's walking towards the clearing, still wearing his tracksuit bottoms, but he's discarded his top, and the water from his wet hair is dripping onto his broad shoulders. F*ck.   
I turn around again, and thinking of nothing else to do, I grab the whiskey from my bag and take a few sips. This is becoming a bit of an occurrence, I think as I look down at my hip flask.   
"Hey" I hear from behind me, just above a whisper. He has got a nice voice actually- no shut up brain, shut up. I turn around awkwardly, making sure to keep my eyes on his face. Oh God, now I'm just sat here staring. Quick, think of something.   
"The Rainforest doesn't shut up" what the f*ck was that? Oh great, now the worst traveller in the world thinks I'm insane.   
Phil frowns, shakes his head and pulls on a t-shirt. Oh thank God. I've been on my own for pretty much a year, that's why I- Yeah that's it. "You ready to explore Saint Helena?" He says.   
I blink at him "Get some new lines if you want enthusiasm" I mutter before turning around again. I hear him sigh, but he doesn't walk away. Well, this is awkward.   
-*-  
"Look at how beautiful the trees look, especially after the rain" Phil exclaims, practically skipping through the mish-mash of foliage, stopping to stroke a leaf or examine a bud now and again.   
"Pffh" I sigh, gasping as I stumble through the trees, wheezing from all the physical activity hiking. What I didn't realise until literally 4 hours ago, is that Saint Helena is essentially Rainforest surrounding a dormant volcano, so everything is on a bloody incline. I drop my rucksack and fall on it. "I literally can't breathe, just leave me here"   
Phil frowns and then chuckles to himself. He remains standing effortlessly, despite having both his rucksack, our tent and our supplies on his back.   
"I'm glad your finding this funny because God knows I'm not" I huff.   
"Put a smile on your face, and it'll be easier" Phil says.   
I feel my frown disappear and my face fall.   
"What?" Phil inquires.   
I bite my lip, clenching my fists "Nothing, it's just- someone I used to know, she always used to say that." I try my best to stop welling up. I turn away.   
"Dan-" Phil begins gently.   
No. I'm not going to hear this. I get up, sling my bag on my back. "Come on, let's get going" I say, cutting up Phil's speech. I lead the way, having no idea where we're going, but just trying to ignore the feeling of Phil staring at me.   
-*-  
"Cape petrels are by no means rare, but their one of the most amazing species on the island..." Phil explains to absolutely no one as I try my best to block him out. His overly happy mood is really irritating, the whole rainforest 'enchants' him, when it's just a load of trees and birds and rocks to me. Rich sent me here to be inspired, but I think I'd find more inspiration in a plastic cup. These two weeks are really going to drag. Maybe I can sip a bit of whiskey while Phil's off in his own little world...  
"You know, these birds are some of the most beautiful in the world, I don't know why more people don't come- what the hell is that?"   
I look up mid gulp to see Dan looking at my hip flask in my hand. Sh*t. "Water?" I try nervously.   
Phil grabs it out of my hand and sniffs inside the flask. He looks at me with a pained expression "Whiskey?" He asks hoarsely, spitting out the word as so it was a swear word "This is an extremely humid country, Dan. Alcohol could really dehydrate you, especially something a strong as this. You could become seriously ill, and I wouldn't be able to save you. So you want that?" He shakes his head angrily at me. I've never seen Phil like this. He shakes his head, goes to the side of the paths and pours the contents of the flask into the foliage. I run at him and grab the flask. Sh*t. It's too late, he's got rid of it.   
"How dare you" I say slowly at a hurt looking Phil "The one thing keeping me going, the one thing stopping me from throwing myself off that volcano, and you throw it away" I shake my head "I hate you" I spit out before turning and storming off.  
-*-  
The sun's setting now. I've been sat here in a this clearing for half an hour. Completely alone. What am I going to do? I've got no alcohol left. And what's more I've been horrible and cruel to someone who just wanted to help me. Great. No wonder why everyone doesn't want to be around me. I'm useless.   
Suddenly, I hear the soft sound of footsteps behind me. I feel a warm hand on my shoulder and Phil's kind, calm voice: "We need to talk".


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: very angsty chapter, emotional back stories, death (not Dan or Phil though)

"We need to talk".  
I sigh, because I know Phil deserves these answers. But that doesn't make it any easier. I stand and begin to walk away "I thought I made it clear, I don't want to talk-"   
A firm hand on my forearm "Dan," silence and stillness. He turns me around to face him. His eyes on mine. "please."  
And I can't leave. I could push him off, run away, hide. But I don't. I sit down. Phil sits down across from me. Silence follows. I go to speak, having no idea what I'm going to say, when suddenly Phil speaks up.   
"You're not the only one who's been holding back information"  
I frown. Since the moment we landed, Phil has not shut up about the Island or himself. How can he have anything left to tell me?   
Phil runs his hands up and down his thighs, looking increasingly nervous "I wasn't always this happy. As a kid I had a great life, my family were really happy and loving, my friends kind and supportive. But when I turned 16... it all changed. I was never the sharpest tool in the box." He laughs nervously "but when my GCSEs rolled around... I couldn't- I- I failed. a D, 5 Es, 3 Fs and 2 Us. I didn't get into sixth form, or any colleges." He hangs his head "While kids my age would get on the bus to go into school, I would be travelling to the job centre. While my friends would be going to parties, I was sat at home, circling job ads in the newspapers. While my friends were all planning their future, I was still trying to figure out my present." He looks back up at me "I was unemployed for 2 years. But then... I met someone" he blushes slightly and looks away again "They- He was amazing" his eyes tell me he's off in his own world "He was 3 years older than me, already had the world figured out. When I moved in with him, my world brightened up. I didn't have to go looking for jobs, he ran a really successful business, so I lived this life of luxury I'd never known before. But it didn't work out" he looks at the ground "He told me that we didn't really love each other: he was lonely and I was young and in a desperate situation. I asked him, how will I know if I'm in love? And he gave me this" Phil runs his hand along his neck, finds a chain and pulls it out from beneath his t-shirt. On the end of the chain is a small locket, engraved with a heart on the front, plain on the back. "He told me that this locket is my heart, and if I can ever confidently, without a shadow of a doubt, put someone's picture in this locket, then I know I'm in love" his eyes shine in the setting sun light "Anyway, he gave me some money, said I was his best friend and he didn't want me going back to my old life. I'd always wanted to go to Thailand, I was always intrigued by different cultures. So I upped and went. It was the best decision of my life." Phil smiles, his face radiant from the memories "One day, I was so struck by the beauty of the landscape in Phuket, that I wrote a poem about it. I began writing poems and found that despite my grades, I was pretty good. I stayed in Thailand for 2 years, and returned home the happiest I'd ever been, because I'd learnt to persue happiness wherever life took me. Then I met Paul. He was a zoologist, but he was also a survival expert. He was the one who convinced me to publish my poems and I started getting quite a bit of money for them. We went travelling to the remotest islands together; He taught me all about the rainforest and protected me from any danger. He was in love with me"  
"And what about you?" I'm so drawn in by Phil's story that I forget myself "Did you love him?"  
Phil looks away, but he opens his locket and shows me. It's empty. No picture.   
"He never made it in there. I tried for a really long time, 5 years in fact, but I could never bring myself to put him in there. And that was when I knew"  
"What?" I ask  
He smiles sadly "That I don't have the capacity to love. I'll never love someone the way I love the call of the birds in the Amazon, or the sea lapping on cliffs, or this rainforest" he gestures to the surrounding trees "I will never fall in love. My locket will stay empty. But it's better that way, because I've found acceptance and happiness in my fate. But it still hurt leaving Paul, and now I don't know what to do in situations like last night. So I do understand what you've been through"  
"You what?" He's completely lost me now.   
"With your ex-girlfriend, you broke up didn't you?"  
"What?"  
"I've heard you calling Grace at night in your sleep, Rich told me you'd been through some stuff and-"  
"No, you've got it all wrong-"  
"You can tell me Dan, I understand-"  
"No, you don't understand because she's not my girlfriend, she's my sister; and she hasn't left me, she's dead."  
Silence again. I see Phil's face fall as he realises what I've just said. And I can't deal with his pity, so I talk. "Grace was my little sister, and she was always happy; 'a little ray of sunshine' we all called her, because she could bring joy into any room" I smile involuntarily from the memories, but I also feel a burning behind my eyes. "If I was ever down, she could make me smile without fail. She was such a talented artist, because even though her drawings were simple, they meant something. She never wanted to just make a pretty picture. She wanted to evoke people's emotions; she wanted to make people happy. When she was 15, she came out as a lesbian, and I was so, so proud of her. Her whole school supported her. Well, almost all. When she turned 17, she started to plan a future. Trouble was, she didn't have one." My vision blurs as my eyes fill up "She was beaten up on her way home from school, and she-" I hang my head, letting a few tears fall out. I feel Phil's hand slot into my hand and give it a squeeze, and somehow it works; somehow it calms me "it was serious. I got that phone call from the hospital at 9 o'clock, and I was in my car, halfway there, before I even understood what I'd been told. When I got there she was conscious, smiling when she saw me. She joked she'd be out before I knew it, back home pestering me. She told me I looked like sh*t and I should go home and sleep. And like an idiot, I did just that. Things changed overnight. And I wasn't there" I can't hold it in, I break down bursting into tears. "she died and I wasn't there- I wasn't there to hold her hand, to tell her everything was going to be ok, that I loved her" Phil leans forward leaning his forehead on mine, his other hand on my shoulder. He moves his head upwards, and kisses my hairline. We both freeze where we are, then suddenly we clamber backwards, looking away, blushing bright red from embarrassment. Then I go back to what I was talking about before. "I had already been signed, but all the music I wrote, it was all for Grace. I can't write anything else because there is nothing else. Rich tries, but it haunts me. When I got there, they told me that she was gone, but when she'd realised I wasn't going to be there, she drew me this" I pull out a small folded piece of paper from my left inside pocket. It's creased from all the times I've taken it out and stared at it. I unfold the little piece of paper and hand it to Phil, my hand shaking.   
He opens it and stares "a cloud?"   
I snatch it off of him, smoothing it with my hand as if to wipe off Phil's simple view.   
"It's a raincloud covering the sun."  
Phil just stares blankly   
"Oh come on, your a poet, you should be able to see the metaphor" Phil shakes his head.   
"Grace was the sun, happy, bright, beautiful. But the cloud was the cloud hanging over her head: that person that didn't accept my sister for falling in love with a girl. And I couldn't save her from that, I let it swallow and kill her. I should have noticed-" I feel my tears returning.   
Phil has abandoned his embarrassment and has taken my hand again, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. We sit there, for a long time, simply breathing. I feel Phil's locket that he forgot to tuck away again, fall against my chest as he breathes. Suddenly, I hear Phil gasp.   
"The sun's gone down" he breathes.   
I sniff "should we find a clearing for the tent?" I ask.   
Phil smiles at me "No, I have a better idea. Come with me"  
Phil offers his hand to help me up, and I take it.


	6. Chapter 6

"No, I have a better idea. Come with me"  
Phil offers his hand to help me up, and I take it. He doesn't let go. His hand is pale, with small blue veins weaving their way across the back of his hand to his ring finger, where a few small freckles gather. We dash through the trees, the tear stains on my face drying in the gentle breeze, and I don't know where we're going. Phil's black hair shines in the breaks of moonlight, his eyes full of excitement. He deftly weaves us in and out of the trees. Does he even know where we're going? Suddenly, Phil stops.   
"Close your eyes" he whispers, although there is no one in a 10 mile radius around us. His voice is like the breeze, soft and gentle, running all through me, willing, compelling me. I comply, blinking a few times to let the left over tears out.   
His fingers still laced with mine, he leads me forward a few more paces, round a corner, coaxing me over a tree root.   
"Ok" Phil whispers breathlessly "open your eyes"  
I open my eyes expecting the dark, but I see only light. Luminous glowing streaks of every colour: green, red, blue, gold.   
"What the-" I whisper back to Phil.   
"bioluminescent fungi" he breathes as though it's the most magical word to ever grace the Earth.   
I take in the view. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. The streaks of colour prove to be toadstools and moss, but they glow like jewels set in the rock of a cave. The leaves, still wet from the recent rain, glow with the reflection of the surrounding lights. The ebony night sky is studded with gold dust that shines down on Phil's raven silk fringe, while the opal of the moon lights up his eyes. His eyes. I look in them and laugh at what I see. On first glance all you see is the deep blue; that was all I saw when we first met a matter of days ago. But now I look and I see the rainforest. I see the gold glowing streaks of stars and I see the luscious bright green of the leaves. I see the hazel coloured earth and the dark amber flares of hot embers in the campfire. I see-

I see in your eyes  
the most beautiful night skies,   
and everything that I've ever dreamed

What the hell? How did that happen? I haven't had lyrics come to me like that in ages. Why did that happen? I look up, and see my answer. Phil? 

Phil! Phil the philosopher! Wow this heat really must be getting to me, I'm going crazy. I'm not falling in lo- I'm not anything to Phil, the emotional-tree-hugging-always-so-freaking-optimistic hippie. I look away, laughing inwardly at my stupidity. 

But then I look back. Could I really be... falling in love? As impossible and crazy as it is... could I?  
This rainforest, as beautiful as it is, is a maze. When I got here I knew myself and I knew my feelings and I knew my problems, but now... All I know is...  
Phil  
And our hands still intertwined. 

I move a fraction closer, holding my breath and his hand. I enter his glowing, gold aura that always seems to hang around him. No words are said. It's like a bubbling sea but on the surface as calm as a mirror. His eyes tantalise me, pulling me closer by the second. My thoughts tangle, fold and then disappear, leaving just one clear thought:  
I need you. 

My lips brush his, softly, once, twice, and then are lost in his. I feel his light pouring into me as I stand there, hands in his hair. His hand finds my chest, settles on my heart. Then, with a sudden jolt of realisation, pushes me away.   
Horror fills Phil's eyes, as he stares as though something beautiful has died in front of him. His hand that had one second ago been caressing my heart shakes violently. He looks so scared. A little lone tears snakes down his cheek and rest on the corner of his lip as I realise what I've done. 

With a shaky breath, Phil turns and sprints out of the clearing, leaving me alone in the dimming light.


	7. Chapter 7

Great. I sit in the tent, my mind everywhere and my heart left in that clearing. And I'm alone in here. Because a stranger, who genuinely cares about me, is sat out there. I got here after he ran- after I'd stood in that clearing for 15 minutes as I came to realise what I'd actually done- and found him assembling the tent. He wouldn't look at me, just gestured at it, sniffed, wiped his eyes and left. Even after all I'd done, he made sure I had a place to sleep. And now he's returned, sat outside, trying to hide his sobs. I already knew I had no life, but now I've caused him to be questioning the very foundations of his. What have I done?

"Phil?" I call quietly, knowing I could whisper and he'd hear.  
A break in sobs. That's it. I sigh, knowing he won't want to talk. Why would he, after all that I've-  
"yeah?"   
Guilt and regret overwhelms me in a crashing wave through my mind as I hear that raspy, thin voice. It's broken, a sound I know only too well.  
His voice has been so cheerful, so optimistic, so together, so alive. And now it's just-  
"Dan?"  
A bare whisper   
My hands clenched, nails digging in to try and feel that pain that I've inflicted on Phil, I crawl out of the tent and stand. There, next to a dying fire, is a scared, raven-haired boy, shaking in the cold night air and his own broken reality. A gold chain glitters in the glowing embers' light, while the locket burden it holds is aflame with light, clasped closely shut in his pale, white hand.   
"You should really get back inside that tent" the whisper returns.   
"So should you" I implore "you'll freeze out here-"  
"I'm fine" Phil cuts in. Venom peppers his voice as he turns further away from me.   
"Are you?..."  
"Yes. I'm fine. I'll be fine. Go, sleep"  
I turn to go, but turn back. I can't let phil suffer further than I've already made him.   
"Look, Phil, we should really talk about what happened-"  
"Really?" He turns, shaking, tears trailing down his cheek "do you really think we should talk about it? I sure as hell don't. I can't love, Dan. What ever reality you've carved yourself where I can is false. I'll only end up leading you on, and I can't do that to you Dan, not after everything you've been through." Little crystal tears continue to stream down his pale cheek "I'm sorry".   
My heart shatters a little, but I know it's for the best. How could I love when Grace and my guilt is all I can think about. Every light is always dulled, I should be used to disappointment by now.   
I stare into those shining eyes, but my brain won't, can't dull them. They still shine brightly. I will never let myself taint them by dragging him into my self-destruction. 

 

Those eyes fill up too soon  
With tears that I drew  
I'll let you be free from the demons inside me, 

 

Pushing the lyrics that sprung into my head to the back of my mind, I nod. "You should still get in the tent before you freeze, Phil"   
Phil nods, goes to walk past me, but then stops. "I'm sorry Dan" he puts his hand out "Friends?"  
Friends? That takes me back. Before I pushed them all away. I almost laugh, yesterday I would have gladly let him be dragged of by killer moths. And now, we're almost friends. In a matter of hours, Phil the hippie philosopher, has become Phil, a gentle, kind guy who sees the world like he's found the brightness dial to the world and has turned it up to full blast. Phil who's been hurt and lost, but found a way to get out of that place. Phil who can not love. Phil, my friend.   
I stretch out my hand and shake his, ignoring the slight sparks of electricity I feel from the touch of his firm hand.   
"Friends"


	8. Chapter 8

I open my eyes, fluttering my lids, once, twice, three times, adjusting to the bright morning light. The morning heat is already filtering into the thin tent material, contrasting to last night’s bitter chill.   
Last night. Sh*t. I groan as I relive all the events that happened. I told Phil everything. And then we went to that beautiful, illuminated clearing, and then I…  
 “F*ck me” I groan out loud, did I actually-?  
 “Good morning to you too” Phil mutters sleepily beside me.  But then he had run and cried and we said, we agreed… Friends.  I turn on my side to see a messy fringe of shiny black swept into an almost quiff, displaying Phil’s face, relaxed and calm, innocent in expression. The light streaming into the tent illuminates his pale skin, his eyes still shut as he crosses the boundary between sleep and conscience. His collar bone peeks out of his shirt, a straight edge that seems to defy the confines of mathematics. What am I talking about?   
He squeezes his eyes shut, before finally opening them. Crystal blue eyes peek out, flickering to adjust to the bright light. At this proximity in this tiny tent, I can stare at the slightly pointed chin framing his angled jaw, or the one lock of hair that refuses to follow the rest, and instead sweeps across his forehead. He stares back, his eye line seemingly resting on my right ear that faces upward. He inches forward very slightly, his eyes widening. I lean in too, drawn in the same way as he is. I begin to close my eyes, puckering slightly, expectantly. We’re just a cm away now, moving painstakingly closer. I lean in and-  
 “Dan, don’t freak out.” He whispers, panicky.  Freak out? Why would I freak out? I kissed him last night didn’t I? Why would I now? I open my eyes, staring perplexedly as I see that he’s still staring at the side of my face. What the fu- “There’s a spider on your face.”   
Mentally, physically, freaking emotionally, I’m paralysed. Then, something twitches on my cheek.  I scream, and dive out of the tent, scraping my hand down my cheek, rolling on the floor, jumping up, running my hands through my hair, down my face, the back of my neck, still screaming as I go. But it’s no good: it’s in my t-shirt. Running every direction in this clearing, I rip off my t-shirt, rapidly brushing my chest, my back, my neck. I tear off my trousers, and see the spider scurry out of my t-shirt on the ground, into the trees.  
 “F**k that, f**k that species, f**k this f**king Rainforest!” I scream.  And now I’m just stood in my boxers, catching my breath after screaming at an insect. I turn around, to see Phil stood there, open mouthed, like aliens have descended before him. He better not- Nope, too late. He’s in fits of laughter. Literally rocking back and forth, gripping his sides, gasping and spluttering. Oh freaking joy.  “I told you I have arachnophobia!” I yell at him.  “Yea-ye- haha- yeah you did bu- hahahaha- but I didn’t think you-you’d react like tha- hahahaha” He finally gives up and drops to his knees, apparently finding it funnier by the second.  Laughing a little myself, I run at Phil, pushing him over. He rolls on the ground clutching his stomach in hysterics. I shake my head at him, unable to hid my grin. Seeing the little bucket of water we use to dowse the fire was half-full, I grab the handle and fling the contents on Phil’s shaking body. That shut him up. He grabs my ankle and yanks it out from underneath me. I hit the ground with a thump, both of us cracking up at our own stupidity. Dusting himself off, Phil staggers to his feet and holds his hand out to me. Grinning, I take it.   
~*~   
“So you’ve never heard a Fall out boy song?”  It’s about midday and Phil and I are walking side by side up the path. The trees get smaller the higher we go up this volcano, so shade feels like a distant memory.  Phil blushes a little   
“Well, I just haven’t got round to listening to them yet”   
“You skipped your ‘hardcore, emo” phase Phil, you had no childhood" I huff sarcastically, shaking my head.  The Philosopher beside me chuckles at my sarcasm. We’ve actually been getting on ok today. This is new.  There’s a comfortable silence until:   
“Sing a bit then” “You what?” I say, frowning.  “Sing me some fall out boy then, if you say their so good”  
 I quicken my pase a little and mutter “I haven’t sung in a while”  
 Phil matches my speed easily, being almost the same height as me “I won’t judge if you’re a bit rusty” he shrugs “it is what you do for a living right?”   
Touché. What have I got to lose? It’s just Phil and a couple of shrubs, it’s not that bad. I blush and look off, up the mountain, beginning to sing in a quiet voice.    
“I don’t know where you’re going   
But do you got room for one more troubled soul?  
 I don’t know where I’m going   
But I don’t think I’m coming home”   
I fade out shyly, but in all honesty I don’t sound all that bad.  
 “Go on” Phil whispers as I realise he’s been grinning at me the whole time. I start again, this time facing straight ahead of me.   
“and I said  
 I’ll check in tomorrow if I don’t wake up dead  
 This is the road to ruin   
And we’re starting at the end”  
“Wow that’s kind of depressing” phil frowns.   
“Say yeah,   
Let’s be alone together  
 We could stay young forever    
Scream it from the top of your lungs, lungs, lungs   
Say yeah    
Let’s be alone together    
We could stay young forever    
We’ll stay young, young, young, young, young.”  
Silence ensues.  “You’ve got a beautiful voice, Dan”   
God, if I was blushing before I’m probably visible from space with my glowing red cheeks.   
“What about you Phil?”    
“Oh, n-no no I don’t sing- I ”   
I rest a hand on his shoulder “I know you don’t, I meant poetry. I’m a complete imbecile in that category”   
Now it’s Phil’s turn to blush “Well I could always tell you my favourite one”  I nod enthusiastically.  He clears his throat nervously   
 “First eyes, first skin, first surface deep,  An elegant show swirl of affection,  
 A game, a fun one, yet still a fantasy,   
Two souls yearning for perfection,

"Next voice, next fists, next the turned back,  
 Confusion and jealousy in a twisted pile, Questions and questions and a fatigue that grows,   
From the real shallow, shy denial

"Then heart, then soul, then the way they curl as they sleep,   
Each crevice known, every emotion shown,   
Through a fraction of a movement and just knowing,   
True love is fully grown”

I gape at the beauty of those words “Who wrote that?” I ask almost breathlessly.   
A small voice emerges from my right “I did.”  
For the second time I stop in my tracks. “How can you write about love when all you want is to be alone?”  
He turns and stares at me with a solemn look “How can you sing about loneliness when you’ve known love?”  
Touché.


	9. Chapter 9

"We're here!" Phil calls happily as he plonks down his rucksac. I follow suit as I come to stand beside him, chucking my rucksac on the ground, although it doesn't seem as heavy as it was before. I turn around to admire the scene in front of me. The glowing gold light of the sun nests in the black silhouette of the trees, blocking the horizon. We're almost at the summit now. Albeit, we took the longest route possible to climb this volcano, but the descent will only take 2 days due to the change in route.   
I let out a content sigh "Finally" I poke Phil in the ribs "If I'd have to deal with anymore of your bursts into random zoology lectures today, I think I'd throw myself off the side of the path"   
I earn an elbow in the ribs and a hearty chuckle from Phil, making me grin like an idiot. It's a lot more entertaining being nice to Phil than ignoring him.   
I walk to the edge of the clearing and squat next to some beautiful, vivid flowers, drinking in their colours and becoming intoxicated with their sweet sent.   
"Hey, Philosopher, what are these plants? Or are you fully drained of your botany wisdom?"  
"No, I think I could supply some more pearls of superior knowledge" he calls in his cheery, sarcastic tone, happily striding over to where I'm sat. He crosses his legs like a child, and begins talking in an excited manner "Oh, that's a Red Camellia" he says pointing to a red, rose-like bloom "only grow on this island. Very symbolic"  
I grin at his dorky enthusiasm "So what exactly do they symbolise, Poet?"  
He bites his lip and stares upwards, a tiny frown of concentration forming on his brow. He digs into his back pocket and retrieves a small book, beautifully decorated with embossed flowers.   
"Cheat." I mutter happily while he swats the side of my head, his eyes still focused on the page.   
"Ah, got it:'You're a Flame in My Heart'..." He says fading at the end.   
Sensing the awkwardness I turn my attention to the blooms closer to Phil "And... Er, these"   
He turns to a page, glances at the black print and then looks away, down at the ground "Sorry I Can't Be with You"   
I frown at Phil's sudden outburst, when he shoves the book in my direction and walks back to our bags.   
I look down and see that that is the exact definition of the striped carnation. Sh*t.   
I turn around to stare at Phil avidly assembling the tent, his attention undivided. Poor Phil. We're civil, even friends, and then feelings come along and shatter it.   
I stand up and shuffle over to where Phil is assembling the tent with even more enthusiasm.   
"Phil, it's just flowers"   
He stops assembling the tent, looking down at the ground. He turns his head to look at me. His ice blue eyes, filled confusion meet my brown ones, stained with pain.   
"Is it, Dan? Is it really?"  
A gentle breeze rolls up the volcano, brushing a few stray locks out his eyes, my hair falling in front, almost blocking my sight. The top buds on the trees vibrate in the wind. The long grass laps like waves at our feet, crashing into our ankles, recoiling with each gust. The few dusky-purple clouds fly across the sky, scattering and colliding with others, swishing and swirling. All senses heightened. The moment that seems to last a life-time. The wind picks up, lightly howling at the declining sun. Birds in flocks take to the sky and glide up to the summit, calling to each other like lovers. I sense this all, but all I see is Phil's eyes.   
And then the wind drops. And we're still here, and there's still a question to be answered. The golden light of the sun is on the edge of being engulfed by the horizon. We're on the precipice of a transition point, neither night or day. Right or wrong. Yes or no. Each a bittersweet oxymoron, a path forever rearranging.  
The moment the raincloud reveals the sun. The moment a crack in the walls of the heart allows light to seep in.   
"I don't know Phil. I seriously don't know"

~*~

Empty. Filled with nothing. A void where there should be something. 

I could pretend I'm thinking about my soul and how I feel, but really I'm talking about my hip flask. I shake the pathetic little tin a few more times, but to no avail. Bloody fantastic. I chuck the scrappy thing at the nearest tree, enjoying the clatter it makes as it hits the trunk, the root, then the ground. I wouldn't say I'm an alcoholic, not really, I just like the feeling of getting out of my own skin, not being myself. But now I'm stuck with myself. These last few days I haven't even thought about alcohol (well, not much) because I've been so absorbed with Phil. And now I'm not.   
The stream trickles by a few feet from where I'm sat. The fading light illuminates my surroundings enough, as I sigh and pull my shirt over my head. I told Phil I was going for a quick wash, not to sit by a tree to unsuccessfully search for some final drops in my hip flask. 

I shuffle over to the stream and cup some of the crystal, volcanic water into my hands and throw it into my face. The icy cold blast hits me like knives, splashing over my neck and shoulders. What am I doing here? I sit back on my heels and sigh. I'm not contributing anything to anyone sat in this darkening forest, washing my own face. All I do is annoy Phil and break his heart: since when was that anything to be proud of. Since when was I anything to be proud of.   
The little stream slivers down meanders down the rock, bending behind a tree. I watch as it slides out of sight.   
"It's beautiful, don't you think?" I turn sharply to find Phil nervously pulling bark off of a nearby tree, watching the stream like me. A golden beam of light hits his right cheekbone like a spotlight, warming the ice- white skin. "Each molecule of water contributing to the flow, bending in nature's uneven, imperfect lines. A tiny source contributing to something much greater, yet still catering for the surrounding plants and animals... What do you see, Dan?"   
I squint and stare downstream. I breath deeply, frowning at the water before me. What do I see?  
"A bloody cold river"  
Phil chuckles "seriously though, reflect your feelings into it, put your writer's cap on" he gently pokes my scalp.   
What do I really see?   
"A dark, freezing river. Doesn't seem to go anywhere than behind that tree. The droplets can run and try to escape, but they'll just be sucked up into the dark ground"  
Well, that was incredibly sad.   
Phil hesitates slightly, before placing his warm hand on my bare shoulder. I block out the tiny lightning bolts that hit my skin and reach into my stomach. Here comes the sympathy, the hopelessness, everything I've heard befor-  
Phil grips my shoulder, and I look up to see he's grinning. What the actual-  
"You recon this little stream doesn't go anywhere?"   
I nod. Obviously the stream keeps flowing past that tree, but I get the impression that Phil is not talking about the stream literally. He means something else.   
"Come with me" he whispers excitedly, pulling me down river. 

Here we go again. 

~*~

This time we walk steadily. We don't run and rush; we meander with the river.   
"You say this river goes nowhere, it just gets soaked into the ground where nothing will become of it" Phil leads us in the moonlight around a meander. "Nothing spectacular or beautiful will become of it. Dan, if you follow a river, it never stays the same: some parts are rocky, some parts are smooth, there are twists and turns and forks and meanders." He steers us away from the stream, down a short rocky pass, increasing our pace. "Streams turn to Rivers and rivers turn to seas. A trickle of water can become the widest of oceans. Dan, the dimmest of beginnings can hold the brightest futures" he steers us round a bend, and turns me round to face him.   
"Phil, what the hell are you talking about-"  
"Don't block it now." Phil turns to me with gentle but warning eyes "you've opened your mind; don't shut it again"  
So I'll shut my mouth instead.   
"This river keeps flowing, no matter what. Even in the dim light its strong. It reflects and glows, when the moonlight breaks past the trees." The pass becomes slightly steeper "but even in the deep, cold dark, it carries on it keeps flowing. And as it carries on it grows in size and beauty, it could lead to all manner of amazing things: the sea, the ocean, beautiful lakes and-"  
Phil stops and turns, pulling me into a clearing. I stare down at our joined hands.   
"the dimmest of beginnings can hold the brightest futures;  
Little stream, you've just got to look up to see them"  
As he says look up, he turns me around and tilts my head up a fraction so that my eyes rest on the stream once more. Only it isn't that dank thread of water anymore;  
It's a huge, beautiful waterfall.   
A wall of crystal clear water cascades down the rock face. The rock face itself curves in at either side of the flow, coming to a point half way down.   
"It's literally called the heart shaped waterfall. It's meant to be one of the most beautiful in the world"  
I stare in wonder at the beauty that came from such a pathetic beginning. The heart shape appears to pulse as the water is blown in the breeze, while the steady beat of water hitting the pool below creates the same rhythm. Am I that stream, capable of such beauty?  
A small glowing gold light appears on a nearby rock. This microscopic gold spark launches itself off into the air, riding the wind like the crest of a wave. It spirals in the air, leaving streaks of shimmering light in its path as its joined by another and another and another. A cloud of gold fills the clearing, bright and clear.   
"Fireflies? Could this be more of a cliché?"   
Phil chuckles but returns my eye contact with a steady gaze. He moves a fraction closer, his head hovering over my shoulder from my right "don't shut your mind"  
Ok, keeping mind open. The glowing fungi was unusual and pretty. This is something else.   
"Now what do you see?"  
"Beauty. Potential. Hope." I turn my head to see the same awe glittering in his eyes. "What do you see?"  
"Me?" Phil asks. He turns back to the waterfall, gazing at the beauty before us. "Euphoria"  
"What do you mean?"  
He sighs a joyful sigh, his entire face illuminated at the sight "Pure and utter joy. The ultimate achievement"  
I shift a little so that I face Phil side-on " So are you saying I need to reach euphoria?"  
Phil chuckles and turns to face me, sweet, little creases forming in the corners of his eyes "Oh Dan, you don't have to find euphoria, God knows I haven't." He shakes his head a little, looking down. A sad gauze trails over his face, only for it to be quickly dismissed, broadcasting his starlight gaze once more. He strafes slightly towards me, and hesitantly meets my fingertips with his. Our fingers dance around each other until they are fully linked, while we gaze at the magnificent spectacle before us. Gold sparks fly on a cascading Prussian blue canvas, the beating heart keeping time with my own. The stars stretch above us and I'm just surrounded by light and colour.  
"You just need to learn to seek it"  
I read all the sights before me, indulging in the tiniest of perfect details. Phil squeezes my hand, as he watches me open my mind to all this beauty and potential.   
It may not be Euphoria, but it's getting close.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Very angsty, death, funerals

“Dan?  
” I tore my eyes from my computer, where I was playing with some lyrics, as I was going to be signing a contract to a record label as soon as I returned home from visiting my parents. I glanced over my shoulder. Standing in the doorway, with her hair falling out of her bun and ringing her hands, was Grace.  
 “Hey” I indicated for her to come forward “what are you still doing up?”    
Her eyes flitted up from the floor, a smirk that didn’t quite reach her eyes “I could ask you the same thing” she returned.  
 I snorted a little “I’m 22, I can do what I like” my frown returned as my sister seemed to grow more anxious as she stood in front of me, biting her lip “Grace, what’s wrong?”   
Her eyes flicked across the room side to side, as if searching for an escape. She was never this anxious, what was going on “Grace”   
“Umm” she gulped and took a deep breath “well, y-you know how um I said I didn’t have a b-b-boyfriend, when you er asked- yeah” her voice trailed off.   
 “Yeah?” Was she worried I’d be angry at her for hiding a boyfriend? Why would she think that? “Well, uh, I don’t have one, er, per say” she cursed under her breath “but I have… Someone”   
“Like a crush?”  
 She shook her head.  My frown deepened. What was she getting at?   
“Well what’s his name?”  She blushed deeply, finding the whole in the skirting board increasingly interesting.  What was going o-  
 “Sarah” she squeaked, although I noticed a soft, minuscule smile flicker over her face as she said the name.  Sarah, but that’s a girl’s nam- Oh.  I glanced up at my sister. She shook like a leaf “You don’t hate me, do you?” Her eyes met mine pleadingly, her eyes filling up.   
 “Are you kidding?” I stood and pulled her into a hug. She rested her head on my shoulder wearily. “You’re my little sister, I’ll always love you. And besides, you know I’m bi”  
 She sniffed “yeah, but only I know, and you could still end up with a girl, and er, I’m not really inclined towards males”   
I chuckled to myself. Even in moments like this, Grace’s humour always peeked through. I took her by the shoulders and pulled her back so that I could see her eye to eye  “So you and this Sarah are in a relationship?”  
 She nodded.  
 “And she’s a nice girl?”   
Grace’s eyes sparkled at the thought “She’s the best. She’s beautiful, amazing, and funny and…” Her voice trailed off as she went into her own little world.  
 I grinned at her “Then you should be celebrating- not crying” Grace raised an eyebrow “You’ve found someone who loves you for you, and you feel the same. Don’t worry about gender, you are in love, and you should relish every moment.” Grace returned my grin, and after giving me a quick hug, she ran back to her room as I smiled at my wonderful sister. As I sighed and returned to my chair to face my screen, I smiled once more as I overheard a phone call on the other side of the wall.  “Hi, love. I told him, and he’s cool… Yeah I know… I love you so much too… Goodnight my star”

It was raining; Pathetic fallacy at its most appropriate. Grace would’ve hated the black clothing, the sombre hymns and the tears, but then again, she wasn’t there to see it. The church was packed with all of those who had loved her. Her dance class blinking back tears, her close friends embracing and wiping away each other’ tears.  
And then a tall, strawberry-blonde girl with a gaunt face, stood with the vague expression of horror and pain. She barely tore her eyes from the white coffin at the front. /Sarah/.   
 Before the proceedings began, I shuffled towards her, and asked her in my gruff, broken voice “Where are the people here to support you?” looking around the lone girl for some family or friends.  Sarah looked sideways at me. Her brown eyes looked like mine: red blood-shot, full of pain. But there was something about the way she stood, the way her eyes were almost dead. She looked back to the front of the alter, and weakly raised a hand and pointed to the coffin.  Suddenly, I realised why Sarah looked so strange to me. Since Grace had died, I felt as though I had lost a part of myself, like I had a hole in my heart. Sarah had lost her everything. Grace hadn’t lived long enough to properly tell me all of Sarah’s story, but I knew that she was a foster child, always being pushed on to the next home. Her relationship with Grace, although only 8 months long, had brought her a sense of stability, a sense of emotional security. A home. And that had all been ripped from her and packaged neatly in that shining, white coffin.  
 “She was so amazing” Sarah croaked beside me. There was no beauty in the roughness of her voice, no romanticism in its warbled pitch. But the beauty came in the meaning in her tone. She was saying this with every fibre of her heart and being. She dabbed her swollen eyes with her damp sleeve.  
 “Yes. Yes, she really was” my own voice joined Sarah’s in that pained croak. I sniffed and looked sideways at the young shadow beside me “She thought the world of you, you know”   
A half laugh, half sob erupted from her mouth, breaking her solemn facade. A thousand emotions mixed in her face, painting her like a watercolour. “And she meant the world to me. I was in such a bad place before we met; I had no one to talk to. Things were all blurry and hazy. But once I met her, she lit up my life. It was vivid and I finally understood things. And in return I protected her from anyone who wanted to douse that light. I guess I didn’t try hard enough though” her voice broke towards the end. She sniffed “but I owe it to her to keep trying to seeing the world in the same way she did, because she isn’t able to anymore. I have to let her see this beautiful world through my own eyes. That way instead of her dying and me stop living, we can both live” 

 Sarah left for university six months later. I was sat in my flat, staring blankly at the blank white wall, when i received a letter. It was from Sarah. She explained that she wanted to be a poet. I thought it pretentious and fake; poems wouldn’t bring Grace back. But I still read the poem attached to the letter. I skim read it, it meant nothing to me, yet one line stayed trapped in my mind: it was the closing line; It was what Sarah wrote on the tag of her flowers at the funeral; and it was how Sarah had responded at the end of that phone call back on that night when Grace told me she was in love with Sarah:

 

Goodnight, my sun  …

 

“Dan!”  A poet wakes me up.   
I snap my eyes open, only to have to flick them shut a few more times to adapt to the harsh morning light. The fraying, green, plastic fibres of the tent comfort me as the amber glow shines through. The chirp of birds and happy spasms of notes from the crickets buzz in the early humid air.    
St Helena- I remind myself. I’m here, on this beautiful island with a beautiful person. I’m not back there. While I’m here, I don’t have to deal with all of those thoughts and memories.   
 Phil. I turn my head upwards to see the philosopher’s glowing face inches from mine, his long black fringe grazing my forehead. The smell of fresh air and morning dew fill the tent with fragrance, although Phil’s warm pine scent is what really has my chemoreceptors pulsing with life.  I stare in to those smiling orbs of cloudless sky spanning around a pitch black night, studded with stars. His eyes are really what makes him Phil. I’ve never seen that vitality and energy in anyone else’s eyes before, as many rely on their talent in words or expression in their face to communicate. And yet Phil talks little through his words and volumes through his eyes.    
“Yes?” I mumble sleepily.    
“We’re almost there”  
 “Where?” I stretch lazily under his warm gaze.    
“The summit.”   
The summit. The top of Saint Helena’s volcano. The highest point of the island, where all of our hard work has led to. The top of the world.   
 “What are we waiting for?”  
~*~  
The morning breeze has become a strong wind, rippling my hobbit hair like ribbons in the sky. The red-brown rock is spread with a glittering black coat, but it’s glistening hue is nothing compared to the ebony locks of my companion, the clear blue sky dull in comparison to the sapphire gleam in his eyes. The song birds can’t sing better than his beautiful laugh, the clouds vexed by the softness of his skin. I can feel myself falling for him with every step along this path, every beat of my heart, every gust of wind and every breath that pushes out of my lips. I’m so consumed by him and his beauty and his everything that I trip and fall flat on the ground.  
 “Dan, are you ok?” Phil bends down to help me up.  
 “Just caught up in you, that’s all” I grin, blushing a little.   
Phil begins to laugh, that sweet, musical laugh, until he meets my sincere gaze. Then he’s quite, and looks concerned. He helps me to stand, and I keep hold of his hand.  “You’re just as beautiful Dan, you-“   
“Oh I’m really not” I sigh happily “I’m nothing, you’re everything. I hate myself but Phil, I lo-”   
 “Uh, we need to go. You know, deadlines to meet, need to be at that summit in 10 minutes” Phil takes my elbow and steers us up the path   
“Phil, listen to me. I’m trying to tell you I-“   
“Oh would you look at the time, we’ll really have to rush to get up there in 10 minutes, I hear the view’s spectacular; you can see the sea apparently-“   
“Phil, of course you can see the sea this is an islan-“ Phil hurries us on, yelling over my voice.  
 “And all the trees. And the nests at the top. The mating season is over but the little chicks will still be growing up, and soon they’ll be flying the nest. A lot of species of bird mate in the South Pacific, especially birds of paradise- hey look it’s a striped carnation!”  
~*~  
And then we’re here. The summit. I look out over the tall, lush leaf of the trees bejewelled with miniature fruits; the birds of blue and yellow and red and white and purple that soar below us like paper airplanes on the wind; clearings dotted with specks of brown that will soon illuminate like the Aurora Borealis; the stream gushing and twisting from the spring to the open azure sea; all of this coated in gold and amber from the throbbing, red setting sun.  
 “It’s like the waterfall, isn’t it?” I whisper to Phil.  
 “What do you mean?” the philosopher at my side inquires, turning his head from the wonder in front of us, to me.   
 “This-” I gesture to the view “it’s beautiful, but it has a meaning”  
 Silence.  
 “What’s the meaning, Phil?”   
He turns his face forward “What do you think it is?”  
 “Me? I don’t know, you’re the poet not me-”  
 “Everything means something to everyone, Dan. Just like that drawing of you’re sister’s means something to you-“   
“-It is not about poetry.” I growl  
 “But it’s everything to do with meaning.”   
I huff and turn away “You know what that means. She was the sun, because that’s what her girlfriend called her and it suited her. And that cloud was her pain and her death and I couldn’t protect her from it. It was my fault and even she knew it-” I can’t take it anymore. I break down, bitter tears chasing each other down my cheeks, like crashing waves. Phil’s arms surround me. He strokes my hair soothingly.  “Well, that’s not what I think”   
I stop crying and stare down at him, holding Phil at arm’s length “What do you mean?” I scrabble in my pocket for the beautiful burden.  
 “It’d be a pretty weak metaphor of it that’s what it means: the cloudy sky never lasts. You told me she was optimistic and kind, so why would she accuse you of her passing, especially through her last message to you? Forget how she left, would Grace want you to be consumed by grief?”  
I shake my head. Ok, I’m really confused now.   
“So, why did her girlfriend call her the sun?”  
 “Because She brought happiness to her life- Phil, what are you getting at?”   
“So, the sun is happiness. What consumes someone when someone they love dies”   
“I don’t know, sadness, grief-“  
 “Dan, this is her last message to you, she knew she was going. You know deep down that she didn’t blame you- it wasn’t your fault. She loved you. If the sun is happiness and the cloud is grief, then this picture isn’t about her it’s about-“

 “Me” 

Slowly, I begin to understand.  Grace knew that I would become consumed by grief. She knew I would almost give up. She didn’t try to blame me.

 “She tried to save me”

 She spent her last message trying to stop me from ruining my life, trying her best to keep me from all this pain, and I was so self absorbed, I couldn’t see that. I did the exact opposite of what she wanted. I threw myself into guilt and grief because I thought I deserved it. I’ve spent all this time blaming myself when really I should have been living.  Sarah was right. Grace wanted us to continue to live and see the world in that beautiful, individual way that she once did.    
I look out at that amazing view once more.   
“This” I nod towards the view again “this means life. Storms come to this island but they never last, and all the rain and the wind comes but the island it- it just grows. It manages to become more beautiful and vivid and… And I can do the same” I turn to Phil “I can live again” Phil nods at me, holding onto my forearm, rubbing his thumb along my bicep.  We watch the glowing red sun sink into the glimmering purple sea.   
“I can find euphoria”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The format is really bad but oh well

“Dan” Phil utters quietly. We’re resting after constructing our tent, on the second day of our descent. The warm sharpness of a rock supports my back as I sit next to Phil. He’s been… quiet, recently. But when I try to tell him how I feel, he keeps on interjecting with even more random facts about nature, and keeps fucking pointing out every stupid striped carnation we come across, which is bloody often. I know what they symbolise, but I see how he looks at me, I know he thinks about me the same way I think about him. So why does he want to remind me of that moment? I get so close to him and I almost get through to him, but he pushes me back. Why the hell does he do that? I turn my head to gaze at my companion and all is forgotten. His locks of hair fall perfectly over his forehead, like brush strokes of black acrylic paint on a perfect white canvas. His eyes are blue, but they’re also a little red around the corners from lack of sleep, and a small eyelash rests below his left eye, a wish left untouched and unnoticed. How can he be so perfect. He is all the art and beauty in the world, how can he not see that? I’ve never met anyone quite like him, someone so innocent and unique, yet strong. He’s dealt with some real shit in his life, but he’s still here, guiding some idiot around an island with a smile on his face.  But he’s not smiling now. He’s frowning, turning his head to his left to meet my gaze. A gaze I’m not worthy to hold. “Yeah?” I sound more tired and drained than I meant to. Is this what I sound like to him? My white noise compared to his music? “What happens now?”  I raise an eyebrow “well I imagine we get into that tent before we freeze”  Not even a ghost of a chuckle passes his lips. He’s also been getting paler and fidgety and more worried than before. His carefree attitude is still there but it’s fraying rapidly at the edges, and I don’t know why.  “No, I mean tomorrow” “Tomorrow?” I rack my brains of what the hell he could mean “walking like always?” “Dan, tomorrow’s Thursday. We’ve been here for two weeks. Tomorrow, the trip’s… over” Oh. I guess I never really thought about that. This island, which I initially hated, seems like a paradise and I don’t want to leave it. It’s like a haven where I can hide from everything that torments me and just put one foot in front of the other. I have to go home. I have to face Rich. I, quite literally, have to face the music. But I have Phil.  “Ok, but at least I have you… I mean, it’ll be hard getting out of my record deal, and obviously Rich won’t be pleased but at least we’ll be togeth-“ “What?” Phil sounds alarmed, turning to face me with a confused face. His perfect canvas face creases slightly, and concern ripples like a crashing wave.  “I- well- if you want to carry on travelling, I’ll have to give up the music, but I’ve already given up on that. I don’t need it. Phil, I lov-“ “Dan, shut up for a second” his eyes look at mine, but don’t meet them in the same way as they used to. “Dan, you can’t give up your music, it’s your life” “No, Phil; You’re my life now. I don’t need anything else-“ “But you do” “No I don’t!” “I’m not enough!” “Yes you are! Phil you’re everything to me!” “You met me two weeks ago” “Well you weren’t putting up a fight that night in the clearing. I seem to remember that YOU kissed ME-“ “-Dan, I know, but I’ve been trying to tell you” “No, Phil. You keep pulling me in and then running away. Why? Why do you do that? What are you so afraid of?!” We’re face to face, panting a little. I try and shake off this niggling tension, and lean into Phil, hoping to stop all this with a kiss. He leans away and I can’t feel our connection. Where is it? He looks ashamed, not meeting my eyes.  “Phil?-“ “-you’re right, we should get into that tent before we freeze. Get some sleep” he sighs pitifully. Phil’s hand rests on my shoulder, but it’s faint, noncommittal. Every couple has a rough patch. We’ll get through this, and tomorrow we’ll fly home to start a new life together. The glades of grass ripple in the turbulent winds, the world hazy in the night’s fog. But that faint imprint of the philosopher’s hand on my shoulder fills me with love and pain and emptiness and how I want to hold him, but right now I can’t deal with him flinching away from me. No. Things will be better in the morning.  A small cluster flowers rest hazily near our tent, which I didn’t notice when we assembled it.  Are they Red Camillas or striped carnations, I wonder bitterly. I guess we’ll find out when the sun rises.   
~*~  
I flick my eyes open, instantly noticing the crystal cold filling the tent. The stark, bright sunlight streaming through the frayed fibres of our tent, combined with the type of bird calls lazily savaging my ears prove that it’s near noon. This is unlike Phil, normally he gets me up at the crack of dawn to get walking.  Rolling stiffly over to face Phil, I find nothing.  Not Phil. Not his bed roll. Not his backpack. He wouldn’t take all of that with him for a wash, would he? Sitting up suddenly, I notice a folded piece of pale gold paper. No. No please no.  Shaking, I pick up the letter, letting my eyes scan hastily along the lines.   
Dan, I guess if your reading this, you know I’m gone. These past two weeks have been amazing, an experience I will treasure, and truly never forget. Our memories will remain with me forever. But that’s all that we can be: a memory. This wasn’t love Dan, not true love. It never was. You are such a beautiful person. You have such intelligence, such creativity and so much love ready to give. But your guilt and grief and self blame tear into your soul, stopping you from seeing just how amazing this world and you are. Until you love yourself, Dan, you can never be free enough to love another. Forgive yourself, you beautiful spark, and your fiery personality will light up your world. That way you’ll be able to find true love.  When I came to this Island, I was so assured of who I was and how I felt. How wrong I was. I thought I’d never fall in love with anyone, and that I had accepted that and myself. Now I’m not so sure. I need sometime to figure all that out all over again.  But this has to be our last contact Dan. I’ll only hold you back, and then run away when times get rough. I can’t do that, Dan. I hope you understand.  But you’ve come so far. You’ve started to understand how wonderful you are and how beautiful this world is. Don’t let anyone take that from you. I had to do this Dan. Don’t for a second believe that I don’t care about you. I guess I’ll love you in my strange little way for the rest of my life.  Forget me, but don’t forget yourself, or how far you’ve come. I’ve taken the Polaroids that you’ve captured on this trip. You need to forget about us.  I’m rambling. You look so peaceful here, in this moment as I write, snoring like a piglet, and smiling like the sun. I’ll keep that image with me for the rest of time, you completely at peace, and so happy. Don’t go back to how you were. I wouldn’t want that. Rich wouldn’t want that. Grace wouldn’t want that.  By the time you read this, I’ll be on a flight somewhere else. A car is coming to pick you up and it’ll take you to the airport. From there you’ll take the A312 back to England, where you can carry on your music career and your life.  Dan, this has been the most fun that I’ve ever had.  Be true to yourself, and most of all, be happy. You’ve learnt to seek euphoria. Go out there and find it.  Ever your philosopher,  Phil.   
No. Nonono. Not Phil, not my philosopher. Not my Phil. I dive out of the tent, scrambling to stand up, squinting into the painful, scarring sunlight.  “PHIL!!” I screech into the predatory, bright light “No, PHIL, COME BACK. COME BACK TO ME, Phil. You can’t do this to me, you can’t. You can’t leave me all on my own. Phil!” I fall in my knees, the ache springs from my skin to my joints to my core and back in a seething ripple. Why did he go? I love him, I love him so much and he ran away. I start almost retching, feeling like I’ve been thrown out of the warm, lazy sunshine into a freezing harsh pool. Why? Phil, my phil. No no no. “Please, Phil. I don’t want to be alone” A crunch of twigs sends my head turning sharply in the direction of the sound. I lurch in said direction, praying to see Phil, but seeing a Black car gliding forward into the clearing.  It’s not him. He left Dan, he didn’t want you he just le- The slam of the car door alerts me that a figure with a familiar face from a lifetime ago hurries over. His lined face folded into a concerned frown. “Dan, what the fuck is going on?” Still on my knees, I continue to retch and cry, shamefully trying to conceal what I’m doing. It isn’t working.  “Dan!” Rich kneels beside me, gripping my shoulders with his large, masculine hands. They’re strong hands, hands I’ve relied on for years to craft my music into a masterpiece. But they’re not Phil’s. Phil. “Where’s Phil, what happened?” I turn to see his face white as a sheet, a few hairs trailing onto his forehead.  “He left Rich. We started… something and he didn’t want anything to do with it. I pushed him too far and-” I’m overcome with sobs.  Rich’s hand rubs calming circles on my back “It’s ok, lad. I understand. Let it out”  A few more minutes of silence and broken sobs pass.  “Rich, what are you doing here?” “I got here last week, I wanted to be here if anything went wrong. Stayed at a hotel in Jamestown” I lean my head on my friend’s shoulder. 10 years difference between us, yet I know I have the best mate I could ever wish for in Rich. I can always rely on him, like a big brother.  “Thanks Rich” “It’s ok, lad. I’ve been through my fair share of trouble before I met my Carol. I can’t stop all this shit happening to you, as much as I wish I could, but I can be there for you.” Rich pats my shoulder “but you’re fighter, Dan. You’re so much stronger than you think. After everything you’ve been through, you keep going. Don’t forget that mate” Sighing, I squint out of my puffy eyes, through the blazing sunlight. The volcano stands like a majestic cloaked figure, swirling in the haze. The trees sway from ground to their top leaves. The world no longer smells of pine, but of earth and soil and reality.  I guess I’ve left the dreamy wonderland. I’m back in reality, but it’s different than before. It’s like someone turned off the lights again, but a small candle flickers somewhere in the distance.  “We better get going if we’re ever going to leave this blasted island”  I nod, but I don’t move.  “It’s not blasted, you idiot. It’s paradise” Rich shakes his head in disbelief at me.  “What?” His frown eases into curiosity “You sound different. Two weeks ago you would have never described anywhere like that” I look back to that view, the masterpiece in front of me. I’ll miss this place.  Helping me up, Rich glances around us “Need to take anything?” I peer inside the old tent, tugging out my rucksack, when I see Phil’s letter and my old hip flask in a corner.  I leave the items in the tent and sling the bag on my back.  “Ready?” Rich asks cautiously.  “Ready”  
~*~  
“So let me get this straight: he kisses you, freaks out and then what?” I click the seatbelt in place on my plane seat. “He calmed down, and then freaked out again- oh shit, we’re taking off” I bite my lip, remembering the last time a plane I was in took off.  Rich holds out his hand for me, offering to help me. Swallowing, I shake my head slightly, gripping my armrests instead.  The takeoff is rocky and scary, but I get through it. The plane levels out and I finally breathe out.  For the second time today Rich stares in utter disbelief, before letting out a shaky laugh and shaking his head “You really are something Dan Howell” I return the grin to my friend, before returning to the story of Phil. “After that he kept on pointing out striped carnations, which according to his book mean “Sorry, I can’t be with you” but I thought he loved me and I thought something new was beginning…”  My entire time on the island flashes before my eyes: the first day, the pain in my feet from walking, the clearing and that kiss, and the flowers and the confessions, and the stream and the waterfall, and the view from the volcano, and the jokes and the laughter, and those nights in that tent, and Phil’s irrelevant, Phil’s locket and his random facts and his smile and the love and Phil- My thoughts are broken by Rich speaking, his face sporting a perplexed look.  “Do striped carnations even grow in the South Pacific?”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a long 'un

And so here I am. A fancy black jacket draped on my shoulders and a bow tie wrapped around my collar. I look out the blacked-out windows, as the late evening sky spreads out beautifully like an oil painting. A long strip of red with lights flashing either side stretches in front of me. My hand rests excitedly on the smooth silver handle of the sleek car, buzzing and itching to pull and unleash my future.  
But I guess I should go back to where I last left off. Seems a pretty good place to start. 

~*~

After landing at Heathrow Airport, with my heart smashed and held in my pocket, I got a taxi home. Despite the throbbing ache in my chest and the emptiness beside me, I couldn't help but see things. The branches waving up to the pale apricot and saffron sky in a twisting, lovely dance that appeared to grow endlessly to reach as far as they could. The cats eyes on the roads glowed like bioluminescents  
and the streetlights flickered and flew like fireflies. The Thames shone like silver, and must have come from a measly, thread-bare stream somewhere back in its past. I guess I took a bit of the Island home with me. I saw pieces of it everywhere. I saw his face everywhere, but I stopped that pretty quickly. I returned to my crappy little apartment by sunset. I payed the taxi driver, and slipped my little silver key into the lock, twisted, pushed and walked into the sardine can I called home not long ago.  
Nothing had changed, but it seemed as though I was seeing the place for the first time. Empty bottles clogged the corners and shelves hiding my guitar, keyboard and books. How long had I hid them from myself? How long has it been that I had enjoyed my music? Too long.  
I had managed those two weeks without alcohol on The Island. I could do this. Summoning every bit of strength I could find within myself, I strode to my kitchen, reached under my dirty, cracked sink and grabbed a black bin liner. With a smash and endless cracks, I swept every last bottle in my flat into that bag, empty or full. With the crescendo of those bottles filling my ears, I felt like I was breaking my restraints. And I was doing this all by myself. I was strong, and I was going to do this.  
Not for Rich. Not for Phil. Not even for Grace.  
I was going to turn my life around for myself. 

After consulting my doctor, he prescribed me medication and had me attend a few AA meetings. At first I was terrified: if I depended on drink to ease the pain in my life, take the edge off my grief, would I be able to cope with the horrors of my life at full force? No, was my original, anxious answer, but after a few weeks of telling myself I was strong and capable, I started to believe it. I could do this. And not to spoil anything, but I did. 6 months sober and counting. It wasn't easy, but I was strong and determined. Grace would be proud, I think.  
Around this time, I started writing again. I thought it would be like before, all my ideas basically becoming my own depressed monologue. But as I picked up my pen on a sunny afternoon in my bright, clean flat, everything flowed out. Some sadness, yes, but also so much more. Happiness, awe, amazement, joy; things I thought I'd never experience again, much less write about. 

Something About Memories  
Striped Dreams  
Through your eyes  
Proud  
Stay here  
Arcadia  
Shelter  
Heart on fire

And finally:

Euphoria

All these songs just came out. Rich couldn't believe it.  
"Where did all of this come from?" He breathed in amazement as he read my notebook, filled with songs for the album. He looked up at me in the bright studio where I had just arrived.  
"Where do you think?" I remark with a quick, sarcastic exhale.  
"God, that guy deserves a medal"  
I shook my head, placing my headphones around my ears  
"Doesn't he just"

~*~  
Did I get over Phil? Well, I'd like to tell you I think so. But the truth is I don't know. Do you ever fully get over someone? Whether you like it or not, people that you meet, and share are a relationship with (no matter what that relationship may be) affect your life forever, in ways you could never possibly imagine. But it wasn't all Phil.  
Phil sparked something in me, but the kindling was already there, buzzing, waiting to burst into flames and throw off sparks and embers like a firework.  
Phil didn't give me strength, he taught me that I already had it.  
I asked Rich about Phil, but he said he hadn't heard of any more exciting adventures he was embarking on. He guessed that he was at home with his family. I couldn't imagine the helium balloon that is Phil being buoyed down somewhere for that long.  
Nevertheless, I stopped asking. 

It was a crisp morning when I walked through the wrought-iron gates of the cemetery. It was quiet, save for a the flutter of a few birds' wings and the faint swell of notes of Vivaldi's "Four Seasons" that drifted from a distant window. It was peaceful here. The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I caught sight of the branches that rustled above me, blazing bright orange and saffron in the soft sunlight. Autumn, Grace once told me, was truly underestimated. In every poem she studied in school, she was taught that autumn signified death. Sure the leaves died, but they're just there to make food during summer. The tree survives the winter, because it isn't flaky and pretty and transient like the leaves, the trunk and its branches are sturdy and strong and beautiful. It can and will survive-providing someone doesn't chop it down. So autumn never meant death to Grace; she saw only survival, endurance and more beauty. Those thoughts will stay forever in my mind. Just because Grace can't speak, doesn't mean her story, and everything that made her wonderful can't be told.  
God, I hadn't been here in an age. I turned a corner and found the path I needed. As I walked towards my destination, I stared at all the curves of carved stone, glinting on top in the light of the rising sun; how many stories were here? How many missed opportunities, and how many crazily taken? How many broken hearts and how many romances of a lifetime? How much heartache and how many adventures?  
I approached the light yellow grave stone that shone like no one else's. A carved angel on top stood, hands not folded like many of the others - deep in prayer- but held up to the sky, as if to show the world her gift of the rising sun, resting perfectly atop her fingertips as i crouched down.  
"Hi Grace... It's been a while" I said, glancing at the face of the angel who so resembled her "things are different now, you'll be glad to hear."  
I rested the bouquet I had been holding to my chest until now gently on the ground  
"I brought you these, they're called Larkspur. Their supposed to symbolise a beautiful spirit, so I knew I had to bring you them"  
I sighed and turned my head to the sunlight that was slowly spreading across the sky, warming the scene and pushing away the cold night air.  
"I've been away for a while, you see. I went on this crazy adventure with a poet on this island... It was so beautiful, Grace. I learned so much about the world and myself an I... I thought I'd fallen in love, for a while. But he and I... Well we went our separate ways... But he made me realise that what I did was wrong. I threw myself into grief when I should have been living for you. I should have opened myself up to seeing the world the way you did.  
"But I'm turning myself around. I'm off alcohol, I'm writing and I'm... Im learning to live. You see, this crazy philosopher of mine told me once that I needed to seek Euphoria. That I needed to find my source of pure, exhilarating joy. Well, I haven't found it yet, but I've come pretty close. I'll find my way." And with that I rose and, stroking the rough flowing hair of the angel figure, I turned away and left the cemetery, my feet barely touching the ground. 

~*~

As I go to tug the small silver handle, a hand rests on my shoulder.  
"Are you sure you want to do this, mate?"  
I turn and smile at my friend. Rich has seen me turn my life around, yet he's always there to put a hand on my shoulder to remind me I'm not alone. How did I ever hate this guy? Did I ever really?  
"I'm great, Rich. You don't need to worry"  
He flashes a small smile back at me, and, with a reassuring tap, gets out of his side of the car. 

The lights flash all around as I exit the taxi. It's a glimmering whirlwind of camera flashes and screams and curious questions and famous faces smiling and waving. I glide into the arena in this swirl of magic and glittering fame. I'm so buzzed just to be here that I don't pay much attention to what's going on onstage until Rich grips my hand  
"It's your category" he whispers breathlessly, his eyes shining. I don't think he ever believed we'd get this far in a lifetime, let alone just over a year. I smile at him, full of gratitude, until the reality of what he has just said hits me like a tonne of bricks.  
I'm nominated for a BRIT award.  
I'm nominated for Best Single of the Year.  
Oh 

My  
God  
Squeezing Rich's hand as he increases his vice-like grip, I turn to look at where a beautiful woman and handsome man are stood, in designer outfits, holding a golden envelope.  
I'm up against the likes of Ed Sheeran, Rita Ora and One direction- I'm honoured to be nominated. I can't wait to see them accepting their award- whichever of them wins it- knowing that I was ranked among them. The stadium grows quiet, as the reading of the nominations stop and the woman begins fumbling with an envelope. "And the BRIT Award goes to..."  
In that moment, time appears to stop.  
I look out among the famous faces and audience members, and marvel at the slowly glittering lights filling the arena, like a night sky full of sky, bearing more wishes than you could ever wish on.  
"Daniel Howell with Euphoria"  
What  
The  
Fuc-  
I'm being launched into the air as Rich grabs my hand and pulls me into a hug that makes almost every one of my ribs break but- I won. That little song which I wrote on a sunny hilltop near my flat, crying with all the emotions that I had experienced through the last two years and grinning like an idiot at the world I had now entered, reflecting on all I had learnt- that little song won me a BRIT Award. I grab Rich in a vice like grip of my own, and as much as I wish I had a better grip over my emotions, I begin crying like an idiot. But people are clapping, cheering, yelling my name. Famous faces around me applaud and smile. My producers clap me on the back as Rich propels me towards the steps to the stage. I almost trip up the steps, I'm shaking so much. The stage spreads before me, sleek black gloss reflecting the billions of glimmering lights within the arena. A roar starts up from the crowd, like the crash of a waterfall on the pool below. This is it: all my dreams have led to this.  
The people presenting the award hand over the shining idol, covered in bright colours like bioluminescent fungi, glowing blue, orange, green into the dark night. I hold the award, feeling the weight of it, lightly running my thumb over the engraving of my name, as though afraid it will rub off. But it doesn't, and I stare at it in awe.  
The arena falls silent.  
"Uh-" I begin. Strong start. "This may sound cliché, but I did not think I would win tonight, so I didn't even write a speech. ... Well I'd like to thank Angela Creek and John O'Shea for producing my album, as well as their team who put in so much effort and work as well to produce this album that I am so proud of."  
I take a deep breath and look  
amongst the crowd near my table where I know a smug grin will be spread on a certain someone's face.  
"I'd also like to thank my manager Richard. Rich you stuck by me with everyone else gave up, including myself. Cheers mate."  
In this moment I'm back on that mountain, looking out at the swaying tree tops and soaring paradise birds. I see my potential. I see my dreams laid out before me. I see Euphoria.  
"I'd also like to thank someone else. A while ago, I met someone who completely changed my outlook on life. They saved me from destroying all hope of any of this. And for that I am truly thankful. They taught me so much, which influenced my songs. I loved them. It wasn't to be, but even now, a part of me will always be their's. They taught me that Euphoria is hard to find, but not impossible. But you'll never find it if you don't learn to seek it. You have to want to find that paradise, and then just go for it. I guess that's what my single- the song that won me this- is all about. We work for our dreams. But when those a those dreams come true.." I grin at the crowd before me as I feel myself becoming absorbed by a bright, exhilarating light "...it's so worth it. Thank you all so much"  
I walk off, my feet barely touching the polished floor as the crowd roars once more. 

~*~

"Er- Dan?"  
I turn my head to glance at a clearly drunk Rich beside me. The cocky grin he wore half an hour ago has been replaced by a somewhat bemused expression. The technicians swarm around me, buzzing around me with their endless wires.  
"Yeah Rich?" I say halfheartedly. Despite my exhilaration at winning my award, I'm beginning to become nervous about my performance. I'm about to perform at the BRIT Awards. Shit.  
"Someone wants to see you" he tries to grab my arm, but missed in his drunken haze.  
"It can wait Rich, I'm on in a few minutes" I stop fiddling with my hands and hold Rich's shoulder as he continues muttering. "Wish me luck" the technicians call me.  
"Good luck kid, but-"  
"No buts" I reply "see you on the other side"

 

I stand on that stage once more. The crowd roars once more as I am introduced.  
As the intro begins, I'm back to the island. The rains on the first day, the squirrel monkey beast, that midnight confessions, the jewels of bioluminescent fungi, fireflies and Phil's beautiful poetry. The ache in my feet from hiking, the raw rope burn on my palms from assembling the tent and the smell of all kinds of beautiful trees and colourful flowers. Red Camillas and Striped Carnations. The river, the waterfall and the peak of the Volcano. Phil's lips on mine, his giddy laughter and weird and wonderful facts. His undying hope. Hope. That summed it all up. 

 

"The dark is scary when you're all alone,  
I tried to push it all away but I couldn't let go,  
Tried to fight it all to hide the pain I felt inside,

You can drown it in Jack but you wash your hands,  
Of your sick and twisted sad little wonderland,  
So you throw it all away so you can just hide,

But blue eyed philosophy will seek you out,  
They get you turning all around and you try to scream out,  
But your arms get weary so they lift you up,  
Bathe you in their light as they stand by your side, 

But even in the darkness of my mind,  
I feel I get a little left behind. 

But then you showed me that  
Time can heal and baby so can I,  
And now I'm climbing over mountains,  
one day I'll reach the sky,  
This trickling stream's running, glowing like fireflies,  
I may not know it all but I think I  
I found my euphoria in you,  
I found my euphoria in you,  
I believe it all when I got you,  
I found my euphoria in you,

The clouds start lifting with your hand in mine,  
You tell me all your secrets and you show me your mind,  
I never guessed I'd find my salvation in you, 

You light a fire that burns through the dark,  
And you teach me that the world can never take my spark,  
I'm more than I imagined but I owe it all to you

So now in mess that is my mind,  
I'm pushing all that darkness behind,

Because you showed me that  
Time can heal and baby so can I,  
And now I'm climbing over mountains,  
one day I'll reach the sky,  
This trickling stream's running, glowing like fireflies,  
I may not know it all but I think I  
I found my euphoria in you,  
I found my euphoria in you,  
I believe it all when I got you,  
I found my euphoria in you,

Glowing bright I always had it in me,  
But you're the one who taught me how to see  
This island glows like the northern lights  
But I found my paradise in your eyes

I found my euphoria in you

Oh baby you showed me that  
Time can heal and baby so can I,  
And now I'm climbing over mountains,  
one day I'll reach the sky,  
This trickling stream's running, glowing like fireflies,  
I may not know it all but I think I  
I think I  
I found my euphoria in you,  
I found my euphoria in you,  
I believe it all when I got you,  
I found my euphoria in you,

I found my euphoria in you"

 

 

And with that I'm with a joy like no other. It can't- no it must be- there's nothing like it: Euphoria. 

I step of the stage, elated my feet barely touching the ground. I unattach my mic, smiling so hard my face almost splits in two. That was honestly the best performance I've ever done.  
"DAN!"  
I swivel round to see Rich, with a mixture of pride and urgency on his face.  
"What's up Rich?" I ask, resting my hand on his shoulder to slow him down.  
"The person- here to talk to you... I couldn't stop him- he left- Dan you have to-"  
I laughed "Whoever this person is, it can wait until tomorrow Rich, I'm going to my dressing room-"  
"No, Dan you don't understand it's-"  
I've already turned the corner. Rich is so excitable, one high up press guy wanting to chat to me and Rich makes a song and dance about it. 

Pushing open my dressing room door, I walk towards the sofa, just about to drop myself onto it when a glinting light catches my eye. I walk towards the source, a small pile of gold on the coffee table. Picking the object, I examine it. A locket. Gold with a heart engraved on the front.  
... Phil's locket.  
What the hell is this doing here. Turning it in the light, I notice that it's slightly open. Prising apart the locket, I see that something has changed.  
There's something in it.  
A small face, staring out at the horizon, the golden light of sunset bathing it. Wisps of light brown hair scatter across the smooth forehead. The brown eyes gaze in wonder at all the potential and hope laid out before them, crinkling at the corners as a small smile spreads across the face, a slight dimple enhanced by the evening shadows. Those eyes glow with all the gifts of Euphoria.  
It's me.  
Phil's words echo through my mind:  
"He told me that this locket is my heart, and if I can ever confidently, without a shadow of a doubt, put someone's picture in this locket, then I know I'm in love"  
Phil loves me.  
Before I know what I'm doing I'm running, not caring who i barge into. I clasp the gold chain in my hand, my heart pounding as tears threaten to break.  
Finally, I turn a corner to find Rich. He looks startled, about to say something, but he doesn't have time. I grip his shoulders in a vice like grip, searching his eyes.  
"Where did he go, Rich?! Where's Phil?"


End file.
